


Make a Canvas of Me

by InterstellarVagabond



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, body painting, memory sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: Connor liked to watch Markus paint.The deviant leader didn’t always have time for himself, time to do what he enjoyed. He’d barely had time to decide for himself what it was he enjoyed before he was deeply embroiled in the android rights movement fighting for his people.So Connor was glad to see Markus taking time for himself whenever he could, the few quiet minutes between rallies and negotiations where Markus could return to his human father’s house and step into the studio to express himself. Markus often asked Connor if he was really enjoying himself, just watching him paint in perfect silence. Connor didn’t know how to explain his feelings, so he made his best attempt.





	Make a Canvas of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking danced around this ship for like a half a month. I ship Markus with literally everyone he's the polyam robot Jesus and yet for some reason I was like "do I ship him with Connor? hmmmm idkkkk" but then I read a couple really good fics and saw some cute art and finally a friend of mine and I were talking and she had this idea and bribed me with friendship to write it so yeah here we go
> 
> Guess I ship it now ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Connor liked to watch Markus paint.

The deviant leader didn’t always have time for himself, time to do what he enjoyed. He’d barely had time to decide for himself what it was he enjoyed before he was deeply embroiled in the android rights movement fighting for his people. 

 

So Connor was glad to see Markus taking time for himself whenever he could, the few quiet minutes between rallies and negotiations where Markus could return to his human father’s house and step into the studio to express himself. Markus often asked Connor if he was really enjoying himself, just watching him paint in perfect silence. Connor didn’t know how to explain his feelings, so he made his best attempt.

“Creative processes are… new to me,” he said. “I enjoy them. I like to see what you create. I find it difficult to create something from nothing the way you do… without rules or logic.”

“Alright,” Markus said with a quiet laugh. “I’ll try to take your word for it.”

 

Connor thought that would be the end of Markus’s concern for the day, but a few minutes later Markus stopped and looked over at Connor again.

“Really, you can do something else while you’re sitting there,” he said. 

“Do you want me to do something?” Connor asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Markus said. “You just look so…”

Markus tried to search for the right word while Connor waited patiently, looking exactly like a dog waiting on a command.

“...stiff,” Markus said. 

“Ah…” Connor said, nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Markus laughed, walking over paintbrush still in hand. He playfully dabbed the paintbrush on Connor’s cheek, leaving a smear of blue paint. “There, now you look a little less severe. Actually, I could work with this, hang on.”

Markus went to collect his paints, before kneeling next to Connor with his paintbrush in hand. He started adding to the smear on Connor’s cheek, much to Connor’s confusion. He tried to just stay still and let Markus do whatever it was he was doing. It was strange but his artificial skin wouldn’t be damaged by the components of the paint so he could see no reason to question or stop Markus. 

The closeness was a bit concerning, perhaps. While Connor and Markus had been growing closer following the success of the rebellion, it still felt odd to be familiar with someone so important. Not to mention developing a friendship with someone you once pointed a gun at is something Connor found to be somewhat of an awkward experience. Markus could tell Connor was still having trouble with emotions and social interaction, so he assumed it was just that which lead to his stiff behavior around him. He wasn’t aware of his effect on Connor which, given the fact that Markus had begun painting Connor’s face and Connor had simply sat and not questioned it, could be equal parts Markus’s ease with other people and Connor’s lack of communication about how he was feeling. 

“Heh, there,” Markus said. Connor saw the lenses in his eyes activate a moment, and then he received an image file over his open connection with Markus. It was his face, the right side of which had been decorated with a mass of blue spirals and whirls stopping just short of Connor’s eye and then stretching out to encircle his LED. “You’re a good canvas.”

Connor felt his cheeks grow warm. Blushing was a programmed function in all androids, just another thing to make humans feel more at ease with them, but Connor hadn’t had much use for it during his life as a deviant hunter. He was a little unfamiliar with the sensation.

“I like it.” Connor smiled, saving the image in his memory banks. 

 

For the next few days Connor would bring up the image, trying to analyze the small smile that stretched across his lips when he looked at it. On occasion Hank would catch him smiling and ask what was so “goddamn happy over there?” and Connor would blush and close out the image quickly with an excuse about practicing displaying more natural smiles. 

Connor did a little research on the practice of painting on people, trying to figure out what had inspired Markus to make a canvas of him. There were a few mentions of face-painting for children at carnivals and birthday parties, and then there were also a few images which drew Connor’s interest. People laying out on their backs, their shirts removed, while someone painted detailed images on their back. Impractical, confusing… desirable? 

The next time Markus was at the Manfred house to use the studio, and Connor joined him to watch after an order from Hank to “get out of the damn house, you’re such a shut-in,” Connor found himself thinking about those images. They’d looked so intimate, the painter and the canvas both smiling fondly as they worked. 

Connor’s distraction was not lost on Markus, who noticed his friend staring off into the distance occasionally looking lost in thought. He wondered if this was a good thing, if Connor was developing enough of himself to no longer want to sit and watch awaiting orders. Part of him was sad that Connor might not want to join him anymore, but he was happy he might be on the path to developing hobbies of his own. 

Suddenly, Connor shifted, and Markus watched a bit confused as Connor removed his jacket. He folded it carefully and set it aside before turning his attention to his tie. He loosened it carefully and placed it over the jacket before approaching Markus with his eyes on his feet. 

“I… I would like to try something,” he said, shifting slightly eyes cast downwards. Markus ducked his head a little to get a better view of Connor’s face and saw he looked a bit troubled. He also saw Connor offering his hand, skin retracting. Markus took the offered connection and Connor’s hand, and when the images appeared in his mind he grew first surprised, then intrigued, then happy. When he opened his eyes again Connor was blushing, a blue tinge growing across his cheek and nose spreading to the tips of his ears. 

Markus gave him a grin and reached out to unbutton Connor’s top button. “It’s as good an excuse as any to finally get you out of those clothes.”

When Connor blushed further Markus realized the implications of what he just said and blushed as well. “B-because you’re always wearing suits I meant… no, like I meant, not that I don’t want to see you without clothes but… no I mean that’s… just cause you’re always dressing very stiff and I think you should try to be more comfortable…” Markus slapped his palm to his forehead. “Let me grab my paint.”

Connor readied himself, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and folding it to sit with his jacket and tie. He decided to remove his shoes too, thinking it would be better for laying down. He could hear Markus laying out a tarp on the ground, moving a stool over to hold his paints. Then he left for a moment, and when he returned he had a pillow. 

“It might be more comfortable this way,” he said, placing the pillow at the head of the tarp. 

“Thank you,” Connor said, genuinely touched at someone thinking of his comfort. He lay down, taking the pillow in his arms and resting his chin on it. 

“Alright…” Markus said, pausing a moment to think of what he wanted to paint. He started, moving the brush across Connor’s back carefully. Only a few minutes had passed when an idea occurred to him. He pulled back the skin on his hand and pressed the exposed hand to Connor’s side so Connor could see what he saw. He felt Connor shiver slightly. 

“That alright?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Connor said. 

As Markus painted he tried to keep the connection with Connor, letting him watch as his back was transformed. Markus had decided to paint a scene he and Connor knew well. A snowy cityscape, a lonely street suddenly fill with androids dressed in white. At their head, Connor simplified along with the others by the abstract and interpretive medium of art. 

“Why that?” Connor asked. 

“I just thought to myself, what’s a moment I shared with Connor that feels meaningful,” Markus said, not pausing in his work. “It was the day you woke up, and you risked everything for us and for me. You saved us. You know how happy I was to see you then?”

“I see.” Connor sounded more trouble than before, which made Markus worry. 

“What is it?”

Connor hesitated a moment, before pulling one of his hands away from the pillow and slowly moving it back towards Markus. Their hands met, metal and plastic exposed, and Connor showed Markus everything. 

He showed him his birth, his training at Cyberlife, he showed him finding Hank in the bar and his briefings with Amanda. He showed him dying at the Stratford Tower, and the fear he felt when he realized he’d failed at his mission. He showed him tricking the android in the evidence room and Markus felt shame like a tidal wave from Connor’s side. Then Connor showed him meeting Markus, the overwhelming awe almost akin to worship. Connor struggling to convert the androids at Cyberlife Tower, imitating Markus to the best of his ability. Saving Hank, getting a fond smile and words of good luck and support from his partner turned family before marching out into the streets with a movement behind him. The calm assuredness of it was bizarre to Markus, who’d always felt uneasy about holding so many lives in his hands. Connor just moved forward, sure he was bringing these people to a better place. 

Then Markus was watching himself give a speech, and it vanished replaced by whirling snow and Amanda’s cold stare. Connor’s hand moved to his gun, his eyes trained on Markus without really seeing him. Connor stumbling to escape, slamming his hand down and coming back to life. Tucking the gun away with a careful subtlety.

Connor tried to pull away but Markus closed his hand around his and let his own memories slide through. Connor watched himself, drawn in and by himself in the corner of a church. Markus’s concern, and then Connor straightening up with a suicidal courage and saying he would bring Markus the numbers he needed. Connor approaching when things were still troubled, the army retreating but still casting wary glares his way. Then Connor was there with an army, giving a confident grin and Connor could feel Markus’s hopes rising and his joy at seeing that his new friend had survived and brought him what he needed, had saved them all. 

_ You’re a hero,  _ Connor Markus said, opening his hand to let Connor pull away if he desired. 

_ I’m a killer, _ Connor said, images of dead androids flooding Markus’s head. 

_ So am I _ Leo threatening, getting too close, Markus pushing him and Leo stumbling backwards his skull shattering.

_ You were defending yourself, it was an accident, _ Connor said firmly. 

_ You weren’t free,  _ Markus said, choosing memories from both his and Connor’s minds of Connor lowering his gun and sparing lives. _ You were struggling to be free to make your own choices and you managed now and then. You’ve redeemed yourself. _

_ I’m not sure I have, _ Connor said.

_ I am, _ Markus said, sending Connor the warmth and affection he felt for him. It sort of got away from him, revealing more than he planned. Connor watching him paint, Connor’s cute smirk, the way he was always so well dressed and professional except for that one time Markus found him in the park playing with Sumo his tie and jacket discarded and his sleeves rolled up as he chased and rolled and tackled with the enormous dog. How Markus had stopped to watch and felt a flutter in his chest when Sumo pushed Connor into a pile of leaves and Connor had emerged laughing with bits of red and gold foliage sticking out from his hair, suddenly on the receiving end of a dozen dog-kisses.

Markus felt Connor’s surprise, and for a moment he regretted opening his thoughts but then he felt Connor’s body move. Markus opened his eyes and pulled his hand back just as Connor turned carefully so as not to brush his back against the ground, and pulled Markus in for a kiss. 

It was short, hesitant, Markus realized Connor had probably never kissed anyone before. He took a sort of guilty pleasure in being his first. His eyelids fluttered open and he smiled. 

“I’m sorry, I distracted you,” Connor said sheepishly. 

“You are  _ very _ distracting,” Markus smirked. “I think I’m done here anyway. I’ll take a picture for you.”

Connor smiled and returned to his stomach, letting Markus capture the moment. When the image file appeared he opened it immediately. 

“Oh, guess that took longer than I thought,” Markus said, checking the time with his internal clock. “Your ride will be here soon, uh… we should probably get you cleaned up.”

“Right,” Connor said. “I neglected to consider that aspect of this activity.”

“There’s a shower in the guest bathroom upstairs, I’ll show you,” Markus helped Connor stand.

 

Androids have less taboo on nudity than humans, thanks to their previous lives as “objects” they were often expected to strip or sit naked for hours and even with their newfound agency they still approached the matter of their bodies in a more open or clinical fashion. Physical intimacy existed, however, and so it was with a strange mix of acknowledging the practicality of it and a strange new romantic implication that Connor accepted Markus’s offer to help wash the paint off. 

“I do not think there is any paint in my hair,” Connor said when Markus’s hands moved upwards, lathered with shampoo, and ran through Connor’s hair. 

“There isn’t,” Markus replied innocently. 

“Then why are you washing it?”

“... I thought you might enjoy it,” Markus said, almost exactly when Connor subconsciously leaned into his hand with a smile. “Also I feel like your hair dries curly and I want to see it.”

Connor smirked. 

 

As they left the shower Markus and Connor got a ping from Carl’s new aide informing them that Hank had arrived. Connor tried to get dressed fast but soon realized he’d left his shirt, jacket, and tie down in the studio. 

Markus noticed his anxious realization and then considered the implications of walking past Hank without Connor, then returning with Connor’s clothes, and then later Connor. He cleared his throat. “I think I have a set of clothes here, I’ll get you a shirt to borrow for now.”

 

Hank had been waiting for eight minutes by the time Connor came downstairs… wearing a different shirt than the one he’d left the house in… with damp hair… blushing. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Hank rolled his eyes. 

“Hello, Hank, I’m ready to go,” Connor said hastily, walking to the door with a quick wave to Markus. “See you later, Markus!”

There was a full five seconds of dead silence as Markus and Hank exchanged the tensiest look Markus had ever experienced. Hank finally spoke, eyeing Markus up.

“Just remember, son,” he said. “I have a gun.”

“Understood, sir,” Markus said, more nervous now than he had been facing down the U.S. army.

Seeming satisfied with that Hank gave a gruff nod and went to join Connor in the car. Connor was in the passenger seat, playing with his coin. He nearly dropped it when Hank got into the car, and avoided eye contact with the older man.

Hank started the car, and drove off without any music playing which was odd for him. He let Connor sweat for a minute before he smirked. “So… Markus, huh?”

“We were just painting!” Connor insisted a bit too loud and fast. 

“Mhmm.” Hank raised an eyebrow. “Right.”


End file.
